Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Unapologize


Warning: this post contains TWO country songs. Do not complain, you have been warned. 

Do you ever hear a song and at first it’s just a pretty melody... Then you hear the lyrics. And all of a sudden it is YOUR song. This is YOUR life in a song, with (usually) a much better vocalist. Well that feeling happens to me a lot. Like there are at least ten songs out there that I claim are “my” songs. But this one has been on my mind lately, especially considering some pretty personal events that have... transpired lately. 

First off, I talk way too much for comfort. Unless it’s awkward silence… then I like to bask in it… and add lots of …  …  … sooooo yeahhhhh… [insert your favorite awkward animal motion here]. I’m sure you’ve realized this from the outrageous length of my posts, as well as my super annoying tangents. 

OK! SO! “My” song of the moment is… Unapologize by Carrie Underwood. My life is a series of events of word vomit. In high school, I confronted my crush and laid it all on the line. It went something like “Um, I like you. I thought you liked me? How come you never asked me out?” Ahaha, oh yeah, I am dead serious. That’s attractive, right? Nothing has really changed, and the result? I speak without thinking. LOTS of ... Awkward turtle. The first time I said “I love you” was followed by total and complete stutters, a long awkward stare, and feelings of “oh shoot! What?? I mean, uh I take it back?” 


My biggest fear is that I’m going to look back on life and be filled with regret. Of the things I didn’t do when I had the chance, but more so… the things I never said. My high school story has a point. It’s easy (well easier) to tell someone that you like them… but how do you tell a friend something that you don’t like about them?  Whether it is an action, something they said, or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend? Well if it’s a wedding you aim to break up, my bff Taylor Swift has the perfect words to SPEAK NOW :) And yes that tangent was done specifically to include TS into my blog. That, and I think it is the perfect follow up song to Carrie’s.


Until next time minions. Have a great day, love you all!  

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

My first spin class


Well at least one thing can be said… I sure am getting use out of my gym. I tried to go for a work out that was more my speed… a spin class. My dad got me into mountain biking early on, and my childhood memories are full of weekend mornings spent on the trails, biking through the canyons of Orange County. However, my biking experience since childhood has been racing to class on the very flat terrain of Davis and the daily six mile ride through Paolo Valley to get to my Dolphin Quest internship. Nothing outrageous or too intense. Whatever, no excuse NOT to be healthy right? I boldly went to my first spin class last week. And yes, I remembered water this time. 

I showed up to class fifteen minutes early (because yeah, I’m that girl. I’m going to go ahead and blame my mother and Matthew Goldberg for this overwhelming mentality of “early is on time, and on time is LATE that I still cling to). I played around with my stationary bike, which is nothing like those digitalized bikes you see next to the treadmills at normal gyms. There are about six more nobs and things to adjust. What. The heck. It’s just a bike, right?!

As the bike screeched and screamed while I tried to lower the seat to an acceptable level, the instructor came over, introduced herself, and then began to quiz me on my biking experience and purpose of my attendance. I stuttered out something like “uhh… I hear it’s a great work out??” Way to be assertive Jaquielyn! 

Her piece of advice for the bike? “Oh, it should just feel right”. I don’t really know what “right” is… but ok.
Ten minutes into the class and I could have sworn I was dying. My body released sweat from every pore and I felt like I was in a polyester cheer uniform melting in the Irvine heat. I think my hearing went out, and white spots came in and out of my vision. That’s normal, right? Now, the worst part was that my bike no longer felt “right”. My butt was in this awful position on the seat, and every push of the petal made me cringe in pain. I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a stationary spin bike, but it is NOTHING like a mountain bike. On a mountain bike, you can stand up, stop pedaling, and the gears will keep turning while the pedals stay glued to your feet. On a stationary bike, you stop pedaling? You better say goodbye to your knees because those pedals are going with or without your consent. I’m kind of stupid sometimes, so I tried at least six times to stand up and adjust my seating, only to be shocked with the bike’s nasty reminder “Pedal fatty!!”



Forty five minutes later, my knee felt like it was on fire, my bum was in serious pain, and my lungs seemed to be half their size. And I loved it. Minus the instructor’s terrible music choice (songs from the 70’s like… nah nah nah nah, hey hey hey, goodbyeeee. Great for football games, not so much for a workout). The instructor decided to end by announcing to the entire class that this was my first spin class. Everyone applauded, and the whole gym turned around to see who the noob was. I awkwardly waved and made the awkward turtle motion. So awkward. 

End result: SUCCESS! I loved it! I will be back for more, with a different instructor and hopefully a better music selection. I loved the intensity… even if I died a little. 

This would not have been a blimp in my mind if it weren’t for my good friend Jenny Lofaro. Jenny is a beast. A triathlete, fish kitchen speedster, and one of my rocks and sounding board during our six month stint for the Dolphin Quest Internship. When Haru and I would drive home (which involved going over Diamond Head), Jenny opted to BIKE home... and would beat us there. She is unstoppable. I just had to give a shout out, showcase her kick-ass-ness, and thank her for inspiring me to give spin class a try.




 
Have a great Monday guys. Thanks for reading, feel free to leave some comments J

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Yogis. And stupid headstands



In high school, coaches, teachers and friends all told me that I desperately needed yoga in my life. Something that would force me to calm down for an hour. I was (and still am) an extreme stress case. Full speed is the ONLY speed, yaknow?!??

So when “Health and Wellness Week” in college offered a free yoga class, I took it. Let me tell you: it was a joke. As a cheerleader for ten years, I am more flexible than most… so while the girls (and guy) next to me grunted and moaned through the stretches, I was bored. On top of that, the instructor had us line our mats in a circle (“like the never ending beautiful circle of life”, she emphasized). During the more challenging stretches, someone’s face was always awkwardly close to my body. No thank you. 

Combine that with the instructor’s way-too-hippie instructions, such as “Lower your body to mother earth and really inhale the exquisite smells of nature. Allow yourself to be one with the dirt”. Woman, we are in a carpeted conference room with florescent lights. I cynically thought. The closest thing to nature we have is the wood conference table.   It was NOT an event that I wanted to “re-experience” **(credit to Michelle Claudio, for the best saying ever). 

BUT I am a believer in second chances and redemption… so I gave yoga another shot. I dutifully give pay $65 bucks/month to the best climbing gym ever, and I wanted to take advantage of my very expensive membership. I’m back into the “I’m-going-to work-out-EVERY DAY… except maybe the days I don’t feel like it” swing of things, and yoga was a good excuse for NOT running. 

Mistake #1: If yoga was anything like my first class, I wasn’t going to need a water bottle.” Psh, this is going to be CAKEEEE”, one of my most arrogant thoughts EVER. Boy, was I wrong. Please note: water is needed for yoga. Or for any other class offered at a GYM. Duh.  

Mistake #2: Not bringing a partner. The instructor paired us up for massages. The husband and wife, the two best friends…and me. This left me with the instructor. He massaged me (and by massage, I mean shoved his skull into my lower back and tried a new form of physical torture: deep tissue massage), and then I had to return the favor and massage his 65-year old body. Uhhhh yeah….

Mistake #3: Not bringing ANYONE. Everyone left the class and the instructor sat down with me to have a deep talk for half an hour regarding my career and not being afraid and happiness and stars aligning and my Leo sun by my Venus moon and my detail-oriented nature and putting myself first and how God doesn’t exist, but we should all subscribe to astrology. And by “talk” I mean… lecture. I said nothing and tried to politely smile as my body cried for water. 

I don’t want to be misleading… the class didn’t start bad. It was fine; the instructor looked like Doc Brown’s clone, and I enjoyed the deep breathing and forced relaxation. The room was warm (thank you Sacramento for the Africa heat and Pipeworks for not believing in air conditioning), but not unbearable. The exercises were more like deep stretches that I haven’t enjoyed since high school.  

And then the head stand… We were in our head stands, breathing deeply, and focusing on our thyroid gland or something, but all I could think about was the blood rushing to my head. It didn’t help that it got 100 degrees HOTTER in the room and I was sweating from all pores.  We were given the instructions to very very slowly, slowly SLOWLY lower our hips back onto the ground, concentrating on one vertebrae at a time. I was focusing, but before I knew it… WHAM!!!!! Dust fell from the ceiling and the walls shook as my hips defiantly came back down to mother earth. Since there were only five of us in class, it was pretty easy to figure out who had caused the earth shake. Talk about embarrassing

The last part of class had us in dead corpse pose. Which would totally be a dead corpse, except I had to focus extra hard to make my heels touch. And if I were a dead corpse, my position of choice would be on my stomach, with arms and legs flailed to the side. With drool coming out. Yeah. Take that, yoga! 

ANYWAYS, he had us focus on relaxing by giving us imaginative descriptions of our bodies… “Picture your feet just melttinngggg awayyyyy….” While he did this, all I could see was a cartoon version of myself slowly being erased, from the bottom up. Eventually our whole body became erased and I envisioned myself as just a floating head. What a creepy way to end class, Doc.

So that's my yoga story. As a treat for making it through my rant, here is a prank video (because I love being on the other side of a good prank). If you haven't seen the New York Grand Central Freeze, here it is :) Enjoy... oh, and Happy Monday!!!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

my Napoleon complex


I live life like it is a movie.

No joke. I believe in meet-cute(s), friendships that never end, true love… and selfless good deeds (well, as selfless as they can be. As Joey Tribbiani* says, no good deed is ever selfless because it makes YOU feel good).
*uh, YES this blog is going to be filled with references to “Friends”, “How I Met Your Mother”, and every chick flick under the sun. Except “The Back-Up Plan”. That movie suckssss. That rant is for another post… 

SO anyways, a couple weeks ago I was back in the WASP bubble of Roseville (it’s pretty much the next Orange County). At the mall and I overhear “Oh no, someone should stop that”. I brush it off, and turn the corner… and there is a HUGE crowd. A silent crowd. I follow the crowd’s stare to a pimply teenage boy beating the crap out of another boy on the floor. He has the boy pinned to the ground and the thump, thump, THUMP of every single punch to this guy’s chest was deafening. It was awful, to say the least.
Now, since I live life like a movie… someone, anyone, a faceless hero from the crowd was bound to step forward and stop this. But no one did, everyone just continued to stand there SILENTLY. I was shocked. Half furious, half not-thinking-at-ALL, I dropped my bags and ran towards the boys. “Psh, these are teenage BOYS,” I thought to myself “I am totally stronger than them.” Now, I know some of you may be laughing at this point, but hey now! I used to be a cheerleader. We lift people, not weights. I’m stronger (and mightier) than I look. 

… As it turns out, angry teenage boys full of testosterone are a wee bit stronger than I expected. What I thought would be an easy YANK! was just a sad attempt to slow down the boy’s punching arm. Thank GOD two burly dads stepped forward and had the bully off the kid and in some sort of choke hold with one swift motion. “CALM DOWN!!!!” screamed burly dad “STOP THIS AND CALM! DOWN!” 

The security guards (super useless, and not to mention about five minutes too late) came rushing forward, no doubt feeling super important with their shiny badges and radio (that’s the extent of their equipment. Really?). Now comes my favorite part… The security guard asked the dad “sir, what happened with your son?” The burly dad steps away and says “I don’t know who this kid is. I’m not his dad or related to him in any way.”

Thank goodness for both dads… and for their wives, urging them to do SOMETHING. 

OK. So in my quest to find a picture for today’s post, I typed in “bully”. Apparently it is some sort of video game, because that’s what all the pictures came up as. Okkkayyy. Two of my least favorite things then: video games and bullying.

 And to leave on a good note, today Ben and Jerry's is releasing a new ice cream flavor... "Schweddy Balls". Which I find hilarious. For those of you not yet familiar with this nod to SNL... enjoy. 

Alright, I'm a noob and can't figure out how to put a video from hulu on here. So click here to watch Alec Baldwin and his schweddy balls :)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

extra clean or extra stupid?

Around once a day, I am startled by the sound of a football hitting the windows. Usually, I look up just in time to see some confused bird flying away.

When it used to be the little sparrows and tiny birds, I would feel bad. They would chirp around on the ground and take a 15 minute recovery period. But lately, it has been the big scary looking crows from those Windex commercials. And they do not just lightly tap the window... it always sounds as though Peyton Manning* is throwing a 50 yard pass... to me. Through the window. I'm pretty sure one of these days a bird is ACTUALLY going to come through the window and it is going to be my worst day of work.

*Football reference?? Wooo, look at me go!

I used to think that maybe the windows here are just extra clean, but maybe the birds here are just extra stupid? 

Anyways, I just wanted to thank you all for showing me such gracious support as I start this blog. I watched the little "overview" feed yesterday (because let's face it, I'm the most impatient person ever and wanted to see who would comment and I could not waitanothersecond!!!), and my blog got 95 views! That is more than I ever expected and I am blown away by everyone's support. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Pleasseee feel free to leave comments, and any suggestions you may have for WHAT the heck I should write about. Someone told me that I need to blog every day if I ever want any kind of following or whatever, and that I also need pictures. However, writing every day gives the allusion that I have some sort of exciting life... And while writing about birds flying into the windows at work may be entertaining for one day, I don't know how much more exciting it is going to get. Is that sad? Don't answer that.

So. Comments. Suggestions. Love.

And so much gratitude towards you all. Until tomorrow minions.

Ps. If you haven't figured it out, I have dubbed you all "minions". Because a) it is taken from one of my favorite writers and b) it reminds me of "Despicable Me". That's the movie with the minions, right? I guess I should understand my own reference first.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

the TS concert


The experience.
Three years ago, a not-so- random song prompted me to research some blonde country singer. I had heard of this “Taylor Swift” before, but I had thought of her as a beautiful teenager who would have a brief 15 minutes of fame before dying out like many country-pop tweens. I secretly played and re-played “Love Story”, humming it under my breath and singing full out in the shower until I knew every line of the song. From then on, I was hooked. 

One month later, on a first date with a handsome man, he asked me what kind of music I liked. Bashfully, I admitted that I had just started to get into Taylor Swift and I was a sucker for her Romeo and Juliette re-write. On our next date, he showed up 20 minutes late (don’t worry, there is a good reason).  Instead of apologizing, he slyly smiled as he pushed “play” on his CD player and Taylor’s voice filled the car. “A CD,” he said “so we can listen to her together”. 

As I fell in love for the first time, Taylor’s songs were more than just some blonde girl’s claim to fame… there were words from my diary, from my own personal story. Every perfect date, every heart wrenching moment of doubt, every twist and turn of my love life was right there on the radio. 

I know it seems ridiculous that a 24 year old woman shares the same music interest as someone half my age, but I can’t help it. Taylor has been so involved in the most important relationship of my life- if her success is indicative of my romantic success; than I hope she NEVER stops singing. 

Finally, at the concert this weekend (eight months of anticipation and excitement building towards ONE night) - I cried through the first two songs. I’m slightly more than embarrassed to admit this (but c’mon, you guys are all my closest family and friends). It was all too much- watching her LIVE singing about falling in love and the wondrous joy of being with someone who just gets you, with the man who made it all possible standing right next to me… I lost it. I’m a sap, what can I say.

The Deets.
                So, like a friend once said (shout-out to Cece, possibly the only other friend who rivals my level of dedication as a “Swiftie”), “it was clearly one of those nights you’ll remember forever”. The show was AMAZING. Totally above and beyond the clich├ęd Avril concert I went to (yeah, I liked to pretend I was an angst-ridden teen too)- it was more than a concert, it was a SHOW. 

She opened with "Sparks Fly" (which I dragged John in a full out SPRINT to our seats), complete with sparks flying from two acrobats that were spinning, twisting and turning twenty feet over the stage. Ballerinas took the stage as Taylor sang in the background for “Enchanted” (probably my favorite entertainment of the night- the choreography was breathtaking). She played the ukulele for an acoustic version of “Fearless” on a rotating stage away from the rest of her band. Fireworks lit the stage as she sang “Dear John” (“I’m shining like fireworks over your sad empty town") - I jumped and screamed with everyone.
For the last song, she played “Long Live”- she brought out just her band and I felt like I knew them all. I screamed and screamed, and when she said “Sacramento, I want to see you jump!!” The only question was “HOW HIGH, TAYLOR?!?” and I jumped up and down with the fourteen year olds next to me. John of course, just tried to survive the concert. 

She finished with an encore performance of “Love Story”, which I sang full out and screamed my heart out. Taylor stepped onto a balcony which floated over the audience, and blew kisses to her “Swifties”. The curtains closed and the concert was over.  It was without a doubt, an unforgettable night. While John apologized and apologized for such “awful” seats, I just smiled ear-to-ear. I felt like the luckiest girl ever (who else can say their boyfriend took them to a Taylor Swift concert? Not many). We could have had the worst seats in the world (which we didn’t) and I would still feel like I was on cloud 9. 

Of course I would be regretful if I did not thank Patty and Dave Raney for the extra ticket… and for raising such a wonderful son that I am so madly in love with. 

And last but not least, thank you to my awesome boyfriend. Thank you for standing in an hour long line so I could get my concert t-shirt, holding my purse when I had to pee, for not getting mad when we wandered the parking lot for 45 minutes after I (incorrectly) made navigation decisions, for taking videos and pictures during the concert so I could soak in the moment, and for making so many of my dreams come true (T-Swift concert included). You totally earned 47,309,875 bonus points.

First post?

Alright.
After much support and badgering from my friends (hey there Ashley Eure), I am starting a blog. The ups and downs of life through the eyes of moi.

I have NO idea how this is going to go or the lifespan of this little blog... but ya gotta try, right? So in the words of one of my favorite writers...

Until next time, my little minions

And apparently no blog is any good without pictures. So here's a random one of me... after John tried to kill me by hiking up a mountain in the most difficult way possible. Needless to say, I'm a little more than difficult to get rid of.